<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Soup by Tiptapricot</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490275">Soup</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiptapricot/pseuds/Tiptapricot'>Tiptapricot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman Beyond, DC Animated Universe (Timmverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Fluff, Gen, bruce is a trash human who can't cook to save his life, terry just helps bruce eat actual food, very soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:21:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiptapricot/pseuds/Tiptapricot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce can’t cook to save his life, Terry knows that, but he didn't realize just how incompetent he was when it came to the basics.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Terry McGinnis &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Soup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Request from tumblr: Okay so since your fic Requs are still open, maybe something with Bruce and Terry? It could be something involving Bruce’s lack in ability to cook.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“C’mon Old Man, it won’t be that bad, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because your idea of cooking is microwaving a bowl of canned pea soup and brooding in a corner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce falters. “I… I add spices.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terry snorts, leaning back against the counter. “Oh yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> gourmet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce gives him a withering look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he puts his hands up in mock defense, “all I’m saying is that one meal can’t hurt. I help my mom out with dinner all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can cook fine on my own.” Bruce says gruffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terry cocks an eyebrow. “Okay Mr. Chef, scoot over.” He bumps Bruce aside with his hip, grabbing one of the pans hanging over the stove. “Don’t know what you had back in the day, but I’m making us some good old fashioned grilled cheese sandwiches, whether you like it or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns on the heat and pulls down a few plates from the cupboard, setting them next to the cutting board. Bruce gets out of his way somewhat reluctantly, letting him move. Terry pauses with his hand on the fridge handle, a creeping suspicion nagging at the back of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns back to Bruce slowly. “You… you do have cheese, right?” He asks. Bruce averts his gaze, mumbling something under his breath. Terry sighs. “Bread?” A slight shake of the head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Christ</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bruce, how have you survived this long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly goes to click off the burner, ignoring Bruce’s indignant huff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” he runs a hand through his hair, “if sandwiches are a no go… what do we have to work with?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce shrugs. Terry chuckles in disbelief and crouches down to open the food cupboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The top shelf is filled with cans of pea and cream of mushroom soup, and there are a few unopened boxes of cereal and granola stuffed on the bottom shelf. No beans, no rice, not even a bag of flour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terry gives Bruce an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. “This,” he pulls out one of the cans, “is just sad, Old Man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Being Batman didn’t exactly leave time for me to become a culinary genius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you shouldn’t be this </span>
  <em>
    <span>pathetic</span>
  </em>
  <span> either. I thought the commish was joking when she said she saw you </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn</span>
  </em>
  <span> a chicken soup, but I guess not.” Terry examines the can for a moment before putting it back on the shelf and getting to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, seeing as cooking in this house is obviously a lost cause, I’m thinking we do the next best thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce quirks an eyebrow. “Which would be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does the manor get delivery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Absolutely unbelievable. Un </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> believable. Terry can’t fathom the injustice he’s witnessing right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce is using a knife and fork on his </span>
  <em>
    <span>pizza.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on Old Man, really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the civil way to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah ah ah, nope, not hearing it, absolutely not—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s proper and civilized to use a knife and fork—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I just say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—when eating a meal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terry groans, stuffing another bite into his mouth. “God, sometimes I forget that you’re a rich guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce smirks. “At least I’m not getting my fingers greasy. You know the suit doesn’t do well with oil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terry mouths the words mockingly, scrunching up his nose. Bruce gives a low chuckle and they both settle further back on the couch, tuning back in to the movie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terry let Bruce choose tonight, pleasantly surprised when he decided to put on one of the original Grey Ghost movies. The camera quality is way retro, all black and white and grainy. Apparently the whole thing was recorded on actual film (something Bruce has had to explain to him) back when they still made VHS tapes. Terry swears someday he’ll get Bruce to show him the fabled merch collection he’s heard so much about, but for now this is enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just pizza and a movie night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When was the last time he’s had one of these?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terry sneaks Ace a piece of cheese, scratching between his ears, and glances up to see a small smile playing on Bruce’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, when was the last time </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bruce</span>
  </em>
  <span> has had one of these?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to say something, probably something overly sappy about actually seeing the Old Man happy for once, when Bruce takes another bite of pizza. </span>
  <em>
    <span>From his fork.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well… at least it’s not soup.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>